Atticus Claw On the Misty Moor Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Dedication

  A note from Henry

  Author’s Note

  About the author

  By the same author

  Goodbye from Atticus

  Copyright

  It was Christmas Day and Atticus Grammaticus Cattypuss Claw, once the world’s greatest cat burglar and now its best-ever police cat, was relaxing on Inspector Cheddar’s favourite armchair at number 2 Blossom Crescent, Littleton-on-Sea. Atticus had just finished his Christmas lunch and his tummy was pleasantly full of turkey.

  ‘That was delicious,’ Callie said, throwing herself on the sofa.

  ‘Really good,’ Michael agreed, sprawling on the rug in front of the Christmas tree, ‘especially the roast potatoes and gravy.’

  Mrs Cheddar joined them. ‘Yes, thank you, darling,’ she called to her husband. ‘It was even better than last year.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Inspector Cheddar’s cheery voice came from the kitchen as he went about collecting plates and stacking them in the dishwasher. Inspector Cheddar always did the cooking on Christmas Day. It was a Cheddar family tradition. ‘Do you want pudding now or shall we open our presents first?’ he asked.

  ‘Presents first,’ the children chorused.

  ‘I thought you’d say that!’ Inspector Cheddar said amiably.

  Presents after lunch was another Cheddar Christmas family tradition.

  Inspector Cheddar came into the sitting room and rearranged Atticus so that there was room for both of them in the armchair.

  Atticus wished every day could be like Christmas. Normally Inspector Cheddar just booted him off.

  There was a big pile of presents under the Christmas tree. Michael sat on his heels and started handing them out.

  ‘One at a time,’ Inspector Cheddar said. ‘And remember to fold the paper so we can use it again next Christmas.’

  ‘You always say that, Dad!’ Michael rolled his eyes at Callie. Callie giggled.

  Atticus understood why. Inspector Cheddar got so excited about Christmas presents he never took his own advice. He couldn’t wait for his turn to open a present and he always ripped the wrapping paper to shreds as soon as he got his hands on one.

  ‘Mum can start!’ Michael handed a gift to Mrs Cheddar. ‘This is for you, Mum, from me and Callie.’

  Mrs Cheddar peeled off the Sellotape carefully.

  ‘Hurry up!’ Inspector Cheddar said.

  ‘I’m trying not to tear the paper,’ Mrs Cheddar protested. ‘You said you wanted to keep it for next year!’ She winked at the children.

  ‘I didn’t say take all day about it, though, did I?’ Inspector Cheddar said impatiently. ‘Pass me a present, Michael. It’ll be next Christmas before Mum opens that one at the rate she’s going.’

  Michael handed Inspector Cheddar a parcel. Inspector Cheddar grabbed it and ripped it open with his thumbs.

  ‘Well, if you’re going to be like that …’ Mrs Cheddar laughed.

  After that everyone dived in, including Atticus. Very soon the rug was piled high with a mountain of torn Christmas paper.

  ‘Phew, that was fun!’ Michael said when all the presents had been unwrapped.

  ‘I told you we should have folded up the paper,’ Inspector Cheddar grumbled. ‘Look at the mess!’

  Callie and Michael laughed. ‘Honestly, Dad!’ said Callie. ‘You made most of it.’

  ‘I’ll go and get a bin bag,’ Mrs Cheddar offered.

  Atticus inspected his presents while Mrs Cheddar pushed the remnants of the wrapping paper into a recycling sack.

  ‘Thanks, Mum, thanks, Dad, thanks, Atticus,’ said Callie. ‘I love all my presents.’

  ‘So do I,’ said Michael.

  Michael had a new games console and Callie, who loved dressing up, had a new doctor’s outfit. They also had books, DVDs, sweets, toys, and, from Atticus (who was good at paw prints), special Christmas cards that he had made with Mrs Cheddar’s help.

  ‘I love my presents too,’ said Mrs Cheddar. ‘They’re very thoughtful.’ Mrs Cheddar was keen on gardening. Inspector Cheddar had given her a new pair of wellington boots and two books, which were entitled How to Make Compost and How to Grow Your Own Veg. She also received some homemade fudge from the children, and a new hairbrush from Atticus to replace the one the children had borrowed to brush his brown-and-black-striped fur and four white socks.

  ‘What about you, Atticus?’ Michael asked. ‘Do you like your presents?’

  Atticus purred throatily. Of course he did! He had a stocking full of cat treats from Callie and Michael, some Thumpers’ Badge Bright for his police-cat-sergeant badge from Inspector Cheddar and a new red handkerchief embroidered with his name on it from Mrs Cheddar. ‘For when the other one gets dirty,’ she said.

  Atticus always wore a handkerchief with his name on around his neck. A spare one would be very handy.

  ‘And I like mine too,’ said Inspector Cheddar. Atticus had given Inspector Cheddar a sticky roller for removing cat hair from his uniform, and he had a new notebook and pen from the children for writing down important things when he was investigating a crime. ‘Although I’m not sure what this one is,’ he added. Mrs Cheddar had given him a scroll of yellow paper tied up with a red ribbon.

  It didn’t look like a very good present to Atticus. You couldn’t wear it or eat it or lie down on it. He wondered what it could be.

  ‘It’s your family tree, darling,’ Mrs Cheddar said, beaming at her husband.

  Atticus was puzzled. He’d heard of an oak tree and a horse chestnut tree and a Christmas tree, but not a family tree. Besides, it wasn’t a tree. It was a bit of paper.

  ‘It tells you about your ancestors,’ Mrs Cheddar explained. ‘You know, who your great-great-great-grandparents were.’

  That would be interesting, thought Atticus. Atticus was an orphan. He didn’t even know who his parents were, let alone his great-great-great-grandparents.

  ‘I thought you’d like it,’ said Mrs Cheddar to her husband, ‘because you’re so keen on family traditions, especially at Christmas.’

  ‘I love it!’ Inspector Cheddar gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Come on, kids, let’s see if we’re descended from anyone famous.’ He squeezed in between Callie and Michael on the sofa.

  Atticus wanted to see too so he sat on Michael’s lap.

  Mrs Cheddar perched on the arm of the sofa.

  Inspector Cheddar untied the ribbon and unrolled the piece of paper.

  Atticus squinted at it. Now he could see why it was called a family tree. On the paper a chart had been drawn. It had lots of lines at the bottom that looked like branches and got narrower as it went up the page, like an upside-down tree. Beside each branch was the name of one of Inspector Cheddar’s ancestors.

  ‘The earliest trace of the Cheddar family is the Scottish Cheddars of Biggnaherry,’ Mrs Cheddar pointed to the name at the top of the chart.

  ‘James Robertson Rennet Cheddar,
also known as Wee Jimmy Cheddar,’ Callie read.

  Atticus listened, fascinated.

  ‘He was a cheesemaker from the Isle of Mull,’ said Mrs Cheddar. ‘That’s why he was given the name Cheddar. He married Ailsa Dumpling in 1762 and they settled near Biggnaherry, where she was from.’

  Atticus watched her trace three lines with her finger under Wee Jimmy’s name. ‘Wee Jimmy and Ailsa had three children.’ She waited for Callie to read the names.

  ‘Huge Jimmy, Big Jimmy and Wee Jemima,’ Callie said.

  Atticus was getting the hang of it now. Underneath the names of Huge Jimmy, Big Jimmy and Wee Jemima were the names of their children and the people they married and so on and so on and so on until the chart got down to Inspector Cheddar, whose full name, interestingly enough, was Ian Larry Barry Dumpling Cheddar.

  ‘The Scottish Cheddars of Biggnaherry,’ said Inspector Cheddar. ‘Well I never! I always wondered why one of my middle names was Dumpling.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were Scottish, Dad!’ said Callie.

  ‘Neither did I,’ said Inspector Cheddar. ‘You learn something every day.’

  ‘Where’s Big and Hairy?’ Michael asked.

  ‘It’s not “big and hairy”, Michael,’ said Inspector Cheddar, affronted. ‘It’s Biggnaherry.’

  ‘It’s in the Highlands,’ Mrs Cheddar told them, ‘at the edge of a great moor. I looked it up on the map. We should go sometime, so Dad can learn more about his roots.’

  Just then there was a loud roar from a motorbike outside, shortly followed by a knock at the front door. Mrs Cheddar went to open it. It was Mrs Tucker, the family’s child minder. She took off her motorbike helmet and hung it on the coat stand.

  ‘Merry Christmas!’ she said, coming into the sitting room. ‘I hope you don’t have any plans for New Year.’

  ‘No, not really,’ Mrs Cheddar replied.

  ‘Well, you do now,’ Mrs Tucker said. ‘Mr Tucker’s cousin has invited us all for Hogmanay.’

  ‘What’s Hogmanay?’ asked Callie.

  ‘It’s a Scottish New Year’s Eve party,’ said Mrs Tucker.

  That sounded fun, thought Atticus. He liked parties. People dropped lots of food on the floor that he hoovered up without anyone noticing.

  ‘Mr Tucker’s cousin lives in the Highlands,’ Mrs Tucker added.

  ‘Whereabouts in the Highlands?’ asked Michael.

  ‘At Biggnaherry,’ said Mrs Tucker. ‘On the moor. Why?’ she asked, seeing the expression on Inspector Cheddar’s face. ‘Do you know it?’

  ‘Biggnaherry!’ Inspector Cheddar gasped. ‘That’s where my ancestors are from. What a stroke of luck!’ He showed Mrs Tucker his family tree. ‘Is Mr Tucker’s cousin called Dumpling, by any chance?’ he said. ‘We might be related.’

  ‘No. He’s called Don McMucker,’ said Mrs Tucker. ‘His wife’s called Debs.’

  ‘Hmmm …’ Inspector Cheddar started searching about on the family tree for any trace of the McMuckers.

  ‘We’d love to go, Mrs Tucker,’ said Mrs Cheddar. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Good,’ said Mrs Tucker. ‘I’ll tell Herman to book the train tickets. Bones is coming too so Atticus will have some company.’

  Atticus purred throatily. Bones was Mr Tucker’s ship’s cat. She and Atticus were very good friends and had been on several adventures together.

  ‘Oh, and Aysha’s asked if we can look after Mimi for a few days,’ Mrs Tucker said, ‘so she’s coming as well.’

  Atticus’s purr deepened even more. Mimi, the pretty Burmese, was his best friend in the whole world.

  ‘Now, how about some presents?’ Mrs Tucker went to get her basket.

  ‘Yes, please!’ said the children, excited. Mrs Tucker was also an MI6 agent in her spare time, so she usually came up with some really good presents.

  ‘These are for you, Michael, and this one’s for Callie.’ She handed them two parcels.

  ‘Night-vision goggles!’ exclaimed Michael. ‘Thanks, Mrs Tucker! I’ve always wanted some of those.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said Mrs Tucker.

  Atticus regarded them with interest. He didn’t need night-vision goggles because cats can see in the dark.

  Callie’s present was a wristwatch.

  ‘It’s not just a wristwatch,’ Mrs Tucker explained as Callie put it on. ‘It’s got a secret camera in it and a microphone for when you’re spying on someone.’

  ‘Cool!’ said Callie.

  Mrs Cheddar unwrapped something that looked a lot like lipstick. ‘Should I try it on?’ she asked, removing the lid.

  ‘Definitely not,’ Mrs Tucker said, ‘unless you want your head blown off. Twist the end, dear,’ she said, ‘only don’t point it at anyone.’

  Mrs Cheddar aimed the lipstick at the fireplace.

  BANG!

  A small firework shot out of the end and exploded in the grate.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Tucker,’ she said. ‘I can see that being very useful.’

  Inspector Cheddar got a big pair of woolly bedsocks. ‘What do these do?’ he said, fingering them suspiciously.

  ‘They keep your feet warm,’ said Mrs Tucker. ‘Here you are, Atticus.’ She placed a box in front of him tied with a red bow. Atticus pulled the bow open with his teeth and used his claws to prise the lid of the box off. He purred in delight. The box contained a large quantity of fresh sardines – his all-time favourite food – packed head to toe in ice.

  ‘Herman caught them this morning,’ said Mrs Tucker. ‘He went out on the boat with Bones.’

  ‘And we’ve got something for you,’ Mrs Cheddar said. ‘Be careful, though. It’s delicate.’

  Callie handed Mrs Tucker a parcel, which she unwrapped carefully. ‘A gingerbread house!’ she exclaimed. ‘How lovely!’

  ‘Michael and I made it,’ Callie said proudly, ‘with Atticus.’

  Atticus regarded the gingerbread house critically. He’d got a bit sticky doing the icing, and the roof was a touch lopsided, but all in all it was a very good gingerbread house and he was glad Mrs Tucker was pleased with it. He thought Bones and Mr Tucker would like it too.

  ‘Thank you very much indeed,’ said Mrs Tucker. She turned to Mrs Cheddar. ‘Now, about this trip to Scotland, there are a few things I need to tell you …’

  ‘Why don’t I make you a cup of tea, Mrs Tucker?’ Mrs Cheddar offered. ‘We can chat in the kitchen. The children want to watch a film and I need to put the sardines in the fridge.’

  ‘And I want to have a nap,’ said Inspector Cheddar. ‘All that cooking’s worn me out.’

  Atticus decided to get some fresh air. And there was someone he wanted to see. He slipped off the sofa, padded to the back door and hopped out through the catflap into the garden.

  He felt excited as he walked down Blossom Crescent and turned right at the High Street towards the beach. He had never been to Scotland or celebrated Hogmanay before. And there was nothing much happening in Littleton-on-Sea. It was very quiet in the winter and since he’d called a truce with the magpies even they weren’t causing any trouble.

  He reached the seafront and strolled along the wall past the pier. The tide was in so he couldn’t actually go and check the magpies’ nest, but he could hear the three birds chattering away quietly to themselves. It would be safe to leave them for a few days, Atticus thought. They wouldn’t risk stealing anything shiny or they’d end up back in Her Majesty’s Prison for Bad Birds.

  He reached the beach huts. ‘Mimi?’ he called. He hoped she’d be there.

  ‘Atticus!’ Mimi meowed. ‘Merry Christmas!’

  ‘Merry Christmas!’ Atticus gave her a kiss on the nose. ‘I brought you a sardine,’ he said, unwrapping one from his handkerchief.

  ‘And I brought you a flower,’ Mimi tucked it into the knot. ‘It’s from Aysha’s shop.’

  ‘I’m so glad you’re coming to Scotland for Hogmanay,’ said Atticus.

  ‘Me too,’ said Mimi. ‘It’ll be an adventure.’

 
‘No, it won’t,’ Atticus said. ‘We’re just going for Hogmanay.’

  ‘It’s still an adventure if you haven’t done it before,’ Mimi insisted. ‘Besides, it might turn into something else with you around!’

  That was true, Atticus thought, as the two cats wandered back to Mimi’s house to say hello to Aysha’s baby. Adventures did have a habit of creeping up on him when he wasn’t expecting them. And it had been a while since his last one: maybe it was time for another!

  Meanwhile …

  *

  Under the pier, three black-and-white birds huddled together in a scruffy hollow made of twisted twigs. One was fat with ragged tail feathers, one was thin with a hooked foot, and the third – the leader of the magpie gang – was big and strong with glossy feathers and glittering eyes. His name was Jimmy Magpie.

  ‘I didn’t think the old place would need so much work,’ the scrawny bird said sadly, surveying the ruins of their nest. It had suffered considerable damage in their absence and, although the magpies had been back for a while now, none of them could be bothered to repair it.

  ‘It’s not that bad, Slasher,’ the fat one replied. ‘It just needs spring cleaning.’ He poked a bit of twig back into place and removed a quantity of rubbish, which he threw over the side of the nest into the sea.

  ‘Yeah, but it’s not spring, is it, Thug?’ Slasher argued. ‘It’s winter. It’s bloomin’ freezing and we’ve got nothing to keep us warm.’

  ‘We could line it with seaweed,’ Thug suggested.

  ‘Too smelly,’ Slasher said.

  ‘What about some nice big knickers?’ Thug’s eyes gleamed. ‘We could steal them off a washing line.’

  ‘No one hangs up their washing in winter, stupid!’ Slasher retorted. ‘They put it in the tumble dryer.’

  ‘What if they don’t have a tumble dryer?’ said Thug.

  ‘Then they don’t wash ’em.’

  ‘Errrgghh,’ Thug said. ‘What we need is a furry nest snuggler.’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘I knew we should never have called a truce with Claw. He would have made a lovely nest snuggler. And we could have used his tail to make fluffy scarves.’